Lily was confused by the headmaster's statement. The words lingered in her mind, heavy and unclear, like a riddle she didn't know how to solve. There was something wrong with her magic?
That didn't make sense.
She had always thought her magic was… normal. Maybe a little rough, maybe self-taught and unrefined—but never wrong.
"Sir… um, what do you mean?" she asked, her voice quieter than usual.
The headmaster didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes sharpened.
He scanned her slowly—from her slightly messy hair, still carrying the faint marks of travel and training, to the way she held her staff, to the faint, almost invisible traces of mana still clinging to her after her earlier casting. Then he did it again, slower this time.
It made Lily uncomfortable.
Not because she felt threatened—but because she felt… exposed.
Like he was trying to see something inside her that even she didn't understand.
"So," he said at last, his voice measured, "you really don't know?"
Lily hesitated for the briefest moment.
Did she know?
No… she didn't. Right?
"Yes?" she answered, though the word came out sounding more like a question than a statement.
Even to herself, it felt strange. Like she had just agreed to something she didn't fully understand.
The headmaster exhaled through his nose, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Heh… so it was unintentional after all."
He leaned back slightly, the tension in his posture easing.
"I thought you were pretending. Some students do that—hide their abilities, act ignorant, especially when they think it might get them into trouble."
Lily blinked.
Trouble?
Her confusion only deepened.
"What is wrong with my magic, sir?" she asked again, this time more directly.
The headmaster's expression shifted. The amusement faded, replaced by something more thoughtful… and slightly troubled.
"To be honest," he said, "I'm not entirely sure."
That answer alone made Lily's stomach tighten slightly.
"I've lived a long time," he continued. "I've seen countless mages—talented ones, geniuses, failures, prodigies… even a few anomalies."
His gaze returned to her.
"But you… you might have stumbled onto something new entirely."
For a brief moment, Lily felt a spark of pride.
Something new.
Something hers.
But it was quickly tangled with uncertainty.
"Okay… that sounds good," she said slowly. "So what's the problem?"
"The problem," the headmaster replied, raising a finger, "is that your magic shouldn't work the way it does."
He stood up fully now, pacing once as if trying to find the right words.
"Let me give you a clear example."
He stopped in front of her.
"When you used 'Burning Seal' against Miss Seraphina… what did you do?"
Lily thought for a moment.
"Uh… I used fire… and wind?" she said.
"Yes," the headmaster nodded. "But how?"
Lily frowned slightly.
How?
She had never really thought about it. She just… did it.
"I just… cast them?" she said.
The headmaster sighed, though not in frustration—more in fascination.
"A proper advanced mage," he began, "would first fuse the elements. Wind and fire become one unified construct. Then that construct is stabilized, shaped, modified into a 'seal' form, and only then released."
He raised his wand slightly as he spoke, illustrating the process with small flickers of mana—tiny spirals of wind wrapping around faint sparks of flame, merging into a single rotating sphere before dispersing.
"But you," he said, pointing lightly at her, "don't do that."
Lily tilted her head again, her confusion growing.
"You treat them as two separate spells," he continued. "Completely independent. You cast both at the same time—perfectly synchronized—and then merge and modify them during the casting process."
He paused.
"That should cause instability. Or inefficiency. Or outright failure."
Another pause.
"But it doesn't."
Lily processed that.
…slowly.
She understood pieces of it.
Not all of it.
So, like before, she nodded.
The headmaster noticed—but chose not to comment.
"I don't have a problem with your method," he said. "If anything, it's impressive. What bothers me is that I cannot explain it."
He looked at her with genuine curiosity now.
"How are you doing it? Even a hint would—"
He stopped.
Lily was staring slightly off to the side.
Thinking.
Or… not really understanding.
"…Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Never mind."
He straightened again.
"What matters is this: your spells look like advanced magic. Sometimes they even function similarly. But fundamentally, they are different."
He raised his wand.
"Because you divide your casting, each part uses less mana. That makes the final result weaker than a true advanced spell."
Lily's grip on her staff tightened slightly.
Weaker?
"But…" she thought, "it doesn't feel weaker…"
"You compensate with efficiency," the headmaster continued, as if reading her thoughts. "Less mana waste. Faster casting. But the ceiling—the maximum power—is lower."
He gave a small, knowing smile.
"Let me show you."
The wand in his hand looked old.
Not elegant like the ones she had seen noble mages carry.
Not polished.
Not decorated.
Just a dark, twisted branch.
But the moment Lily focused on it—
Her breath caught slightly.
It felt… deep.
Like a bottomless well.
Calm on the surface—but hiding something massive beneath.
I really want to hold that, she thought instinctively.
The headmaster flicked the wand.
At first, nothing happened.
Then—
The air shifted.
A soft breeze brushed against Lily's cheek. Gentle, almost comforting.
Then it grew.
The wind began to circle, slowly at first, like something waking up. Papers on a nearby desk rustled. Her hair lifted slightly.
Then stronger.
The currents tightened, spinning faster. The temperature dropped as moisture gathered in the air. Tiny droplets formed, clinging to her skin, her clothes, making everything feel slightly heavy.
The pressure built.
Not violently.
But steadily.
Like being pulled into something larger.
Lily's instincts flared.
She raised her staff slightly—
And then—
It was gone.
Completely.
The room returned to stillness so suddenly it almost felt unnatural.
"That," the headmaster said calmly, "was the advanced spell 'Typhoon.'"
He lowered his wand.
"I reduced the mana significantly."
He looked at her.
"Well?"
A faint, challenging smile appeared.
"Care to replicate it?"
Lily blinked.
She glanced down at her sleeves. Damp.
Before she could react, a gentle, warm breeze passed over her, drying her clothes instantly.
She looked back up.
Wind and water…
That's all it is, right?
She raised her staff.
This time, she focused more.
Her breathing slowed.
Her thoughts sharpened.
Two spells.
At the same time.
Like always.
Her lips moved, her voice barely audible.
"Heavy winds…"
"Heavy rain…"
The air responded immediately.
Wind surged outward, faster than before. It built quickly, spiraling with a sharp, cutting edge.
Then the rain formed.
Droplets appeared midair—unnatural, sudden—before being caught and dragged into the violent currents.
The room roared.
The sound of wind and water crashing together filled the space.
Lily's eyes widened.
Too fast.
Too strong.
She hadn't controlled it properly.
"Oh no—"
She tried to pull it back, shifting her mana, trying to unravel the spell the way she normally would.
But it resisted.
The two spells had already intertwined too deeply.
Oh no oh no what do I do—
Panic surged.
I'm going to get in trouble—
Before her thoughts could spiral further—
The storm collapsed.
Not weakened.
Not slowed.
Gone.
The headmaster had already acted.
With a single motion, he erased the entire construct, dispersing the mana so cleanly it was as if it had never existed.
Silence.
Lily stood frozen.
The headmaster stared at her.
"…I don't understand," he said quietly.
He stepped closer.
"That wasn't luck. That wasn't instinct alone."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
" That method—it's natural to you."
A pause.
"Can you teach me?"
Lily immediately shook her head.
"I really don't know how," she said truthfully. "This is just… how I've always used magic."
Inside, her thoughts were racing.
Should I have told him?
No… that would've been bad.
Right?
He might think it's dangerous… or try to stop me…
She exhaled slowly.
So that's what he meant… multicast.
I don't get why it's such a big deal…
For me It's just faster… and uses less mana…
Isn't that a good thing?
The headmaster watched her for a long moment.
Then finally—
"…Very well."
He stepped back.
"You may go."
Lily left quickly.
The moment she stepped outside, the tension in her shoulders dropped.
She hadn't realized how stiff she'd been.
The academy grounds stretched out before her—wide stone paths, trimmed greenery, students moving in small groups, some laughing, some arguing, some practicing small spells that flickered harmlessly in the open air.
It felt… normal.
Compared to what just happened.
She walked toward the dorms.
The further she got, the quieter her thoughts became.
Until only one remained.
…Is my magic really that strange?
The dorm hallway was quieter.
Long.
Lined with identical doors.
203…
204…
She stopped.
"This one…"
She took out her emblem, turning it in her fingers. The small raised bump caught the light slightly.
She inserted it into the keyhole.
Turned.
Click.
A small smile appeared on her face.
My room…
She pushed the door open.
Inside—
Two beds.
Two desks.
Neatly arranged.
And someone else.
A girl lay on one of the beds, resting on her stomach, her legs lightly kicking in the air as she read a book. Her hair spilled loosely around her shoulders, slightly messy but in a way that looked intentional rather than careless.
At the sound of the door, she looked up immediately.
Her eyes were sharp.
Observant.
They landed on Lily and stayed there.
"Lily Aedile, right?" she asked.
Lily froze for a moment.
"Y-yeah… and you?"
The girl's expression changed instantly.
Bright.
Energetic.
Like a switch had been flipped.
"I'm Gina Lee!"